


take a bite of my heart tonight

by Qzil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/pseuds/Qzil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel is shipwrecked, he winds up on a mysterious island inhabited by a small community of cannibals, and quickly becomes the pet of their leader, a woman named Meg who claims to be immortal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dykeadellic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeadellic/gifts).



Castiel hated rope.

He’d always hated it, ever since he was a child and his older brother had jokingly fashioned a noose and slung it over Castiel’s neck. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the bristly material clinging to his skin, threatening to squeeze the life from his body.

He had never cared much for his older brother, either.

But now he hated rope for an entirely different reason.

The man next to him shifted, causing pain to shoot through Castiel’s back, but he could not fault the man for trying to get comfortable. His hands, numb from being bound behind his back for days, throbbed as the man’s motions pulled the ropes around Castiel’s wrists tighter.

Hearing chatter floating toward him from the small clearing outside of his prison, Castiel put his head down and curled into a ball, trying to make himself seem smaller. The man behind him snorted.

“Won’t do you any good, kid.”

Castiel ignored him as the chattering came closer, staring out into the jungle.

He was a storyteller by trade and nature, but until he’d boarded the _Blackbird,_ he had never been more than a mile from the large, coastal city where he was born. He had planned to sail to see his sister, but after he had heard the sailors telling stories one night, he had been hooked. Instead of sailing home, he had boarded another ship, and then another, collecting the stories the sailors told each other, determined to write his own book on the legends of the sea.

He was sailing back home on the very same ship that had begun his journey when a sudden storm had blown the vessel to an island that the captain swore had not existed in their first time traveling the route, and that could not be found on any map. The ship had run aground despite the crew’s best efforts in keeping it away from the mysterious place, and when the storm had faded, there were several women standing on the sand below the ship, smiling and speaking a strange, guttural tongue that Castiel had never heard before.

The captain, fearing nothing from the women, had recommended that they go ashore to examine the boat and greet the group clustered on the sand.

It had all gone downhill from there. Several men had crept from the jungle the moment the crew had swung down from the ship, and the women, being stronger than they looked, had easily overpowered the sailors, knocking them unconscious.

When Castiel had come to, he and the crew had been bound wrist and ankle, with ropes connecting each man to the other. They had all been stuffed into a small cage made of woven branches, unable to move.

The women stopped their muttering.

Uncurling slightly, Castiel glanced toward the wall of their cage and noticed that the small group of women staring straight at him. Although they were dressed nearly identical, with all three of them wearing loose garments made of strange, brown leather that hung off their bodies like sacks, they looked as different from each other as the seasons. One woman, with tanned skin and blonde hair, gripped the hand of a pale, dark haired woman and giggled, while the third, a girl with dark skin and eyes, turned her gaze to the man on Castiel’s left. She muttered something in their strange, guttural tongue and pointed.

The man flinched.

The other two women began chattering excitedly, pointing at Castiel instead. He tried to stare past them to where several men were feeding a large fire, but found his eyes drawn back to the small group as their voices grew louder and more heated. Clearly they were arguing with one another. That was clear in any language.

Finally the two women relented. The third one smiled triumphantly and turned, barking something at one of the men. A tall, well-muscled youth looked up from the fire and strode toward the group, his head bowed respectfully. The dark haired woman holding onto the blonde one reached forward and brushed the man’s shoulder length hair back from his face gently before giving him an order and pointing to the man on Castiel’s left.

He began squirming, trying to crawl backward from the door to their cage as the tall man opened it and stepped inside. The men around him gave small, quiet moans of pain as he did, the force of him moving backward pulling on their own ropes. The tall man ignored them all and pulled a small knife from the tan-colored belt around his waist before bending over and cutting the rope connecting the condemned man to the rest of him. Not giving him a chance to get away, the tall man leaned over and grabbed him by the hair, pausing for a moment to look at Castiel.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in perfect English. Stunned, Castiel stared at him with wide eyes, noticing a strip of leather tied around his neck. “The worst is over for him, since he won’t get one of these.” He tapped the choker and turned away, dragging the man with him.

The women scowled at the tall man, but he simply shrugged, kept his head bowed, and muttered something in their language. Seemingly pleased, the third woman gave another order while the other two stood on their tip toes so each of them could press a kiss to his cheek, the man leaning down automatically for them.

Confused, Castiel watched them walk away as another man with a strip of leather around his neck secured the door to the cage.

Castiel spent the rest of the day watching as men and women moved in and out of the clearing, feeding the fire or laughing with one another, and noticed that a majority of the men were wearing collars and never approached the women first, or even spoke to them, instead quieting in their presence.

“What sort of Hell did we land in?” muttered one of the men near Castiel. One of the women, having heard him, turned and spat in their direction before she smiled and pointed toward the fire.

Castiel followed her hand and gasped, trying to choke down the bile rising in his throat when he saw the man they had taken from the cage being led into the clearing. Castiel had never bothered to learn the man’s name, having little contact with the crew aside from the captain, but most of the sailors had known him well.

The man had been stripped bare and fresh welts decorated his legs and arms, as if they had beaten him, but had wanted to avoid spoiling too much of his skin. He stumbled into the clearing on shaking legs, a rope tied tight around his neck as another woman tugged him into the clearing by the other end of the rope.

Horrified, Castiel watched as one of the women barked an order and the tall man from earlier took the end of the rope and casually tugged it from around the condemned man’s neck before he drew his knife across the soft skin. The men around Castiel shouted and cursed, and unable to stop himself, Castiel turned his head to the side and vomited onto the leaves that coated the floor of their prison.

Several women hooted as the man was turned upside down and more cuts were opened on his wrists to drain the blood. Another collared man placed a large wooden bucket under the corpse to catch the liquid as the taller man secured the body to two small ropes hanging from a tree so it dangled upside down.

“They’re… they’re treating him like an animal,” the man behind Castiel whispered, clearly horrified. “You don’t… Captain, you don’t think… they can’t…”

“I think that’s exactly what they’re going to do,” the captain, a graying man in his early forties, answered, his tone flat. When Castiel twisted to look behind him, he saw that the man’s eyes were distant. “We’re in some deep shit, boys. Hey, Cas, you might want to remember all of his for when you write up that biography on me.”

“Someone has to come looking for us,” Castiel said. The _Blackbird_ carried all manner of things to ports up and down the coast, and Captain Carver and his crew were well known, if not particularly loved, by most of the people they met with. If anything, Castiel’s sisters and brothers would search for him. “We’re too well known to disappear. Besides, all those stories of cannibal islanders are just that. Stories.”

Carver snorted. “What else do you think they want with us?”

Castiel didn’t have a reply, so he kept his mouth shut, watching in horror as a small group of men removed the dead sailor from the wood and carted him to the other side of the clearing, blades in hands. A few of the women moved forward, hiding the corpse from view so they were mercifully spared the sight of their crewmate being butchered.

Sick, Castiel shifted and turned to stare into the trees as the talk around him turned to escape.

.

As the days past, the men quieted. Plans for escape ceased, and soon Castiel found himself wishing that he would be the next one taken from the cage. The waiting was almost as bad as hearing the men that were dragged into the jungle scream as they died, and the scent of their flesh cooking made his stomach growl with hunger, reminding him that he had not eaten in days.

The other men around him, weak from being starved, slept often to stave off their hunger and so they would not have to see their prison. But Castiel kept his eyes open, staring into the jungle and praying for salvation.

It came, but not in the way he expected.

As the sun rose on the third day Castiel woke to see the blonde woman once again standing outside of the cage. She stared at him with narrowed eyes before turning and shouting toward the opposite end of the clearing. Hearing an answer, she smiled at him, causing Castiel to shrink away in fear. He had half-hoped that he would be chosen next and given a quick death, but now that it was happening he was afraid. The men around him shifted away, leaving him alone in the middle of the cage.

Then a woman he had never seen before approached, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had a round face with large, dark eyes and skin so pale she looked as if she had risen from the grave. Her hair was almost as dark as his own, and it fell past her waist in soft, loose waves. Castiel found himself studying her, drinking in the soft, oddly colored leather dress she wore. It fell nearly to her feet at her front, while the sides of it were ripped, leaving the curve of her hip exposed to the sunlight, and a lighter-colored belt kept it tied around her waist, the top half of the dress baring her arms and the top of her breasts. When he chanced a look at the skin there, he shuddered, seeing a multilayered necklace of human teeth spilling down between the soft skin and under the leather.

She was beautiful and terrifying and looking straight at him. Heart pounding, Castiel found himself unable to look away from her face. She smiled at him, showing off teeth that had been filed to points, and laughed.

“That’s the first thing I’ll have to teach you not to do,” she said in perfect English. Stunned, Castiel watched her turn and bark and order in the islander’s tongue, summoning the taller man Castiel had seen his first day in the cage. “Sam, take him to my hut. See that he’s bathed and fed before I return.”

The man nodded and unlocked the cage while Castiel watched the woman walk away, the blonde trailing behind her after casting a quiet, triumphant smile in Sam’s direction. Castiel went without protest, but noticed Captain Carver and the other men staring at him with dull eyes, accepting that another man was going to be killed.

“It’s not so bad,” Sam whispered as he helped him through the clearing. Castiel nodded dumbly as feeling began to return to his legs. He stumbled alongside the taller man, unable to walk after being bound for so long. “You’re actually pretty lucky.”

“How do you know how to speak English?” Castiel asked. Sam frowned at him.

“My mother taught me. But Jess and Ruby can’t speak it, so I don’t use it often.”

“What is this place? Why is it not on any maps? Who was that woman? Why are you doing this to us?” Castiel continued. Sam shushed him, but he barreled onward, anyway. “Why are you wearing a collar?”

Sam shushed him again. “Don’t ask questions. Just keep your head down and do as you’re told. And you’ll get your own collar in a few hours, anyway. Just let her put it on you. Keep Meg happy and she won’t eat you.”

“You’re _slaves,”_ Castiel realized. Sam hauled him out of the clearing and began forcing him down a dirt path, toward a circle of small wooden homes. Staring at the trees, Castiel noticed several pieces of the Blackbird being torn apart. “The women here keep the men as slaves.”

“Yes,” Sam answered quietly. “Meg, she--well, you’ll find out. But, as I said, it isn’t so bad. As long as you keep Meg happy, she will treat you well.” Hailing several women as he passed, Sam gave Castiel a short, sharp shove and told them something in their language. The women grinned and helped Sam drag him into the wooden house at the end of the cluster of homes. Larger than the others, it boasted windows made from old, wavy glass and a small wooden porch. Wind chimes made from seashells and human bones hung from the small awning that thrust outward from the door, and he spotted several crudely-made chairs clustered on the porch, no two the same. More bones decorated the porch’s low railing and lined the windows.

He instinctively tried to shrink backward from the structure, causing the women shoving him toward it to giggle in delight. A younger girl with bright blue eyes turned and said something to Sam that made him laugh, too, and a moment later Castiel found himself being shoved through the sun-faded piece of material that acted as the home’s door.

Inside, he could barely see, the feeble light coming in through the windows barely illuminating the large space. Looking around, he managed to make out a large featherbed, clearly taken from a ship long ago, in the corner of the hut, wide enough that two people could sleep in the same bed and never notice each other. Next to it he saw a shelf stacked with bottles. In the middle of the room there was a small, personal fire pit, positioned under a small smoke hole in the ceiling with a large copper tub next to it. In the other shadowy corner, he could just make out a clumsily constructed shelf stuffed with books.

Sam nudged him, knocking Castiel out of his haze. He allowed himself to be led to the copper tub, already filled to the brim with steaming water, and gasped when Sam cut the ropes binding his wrists together. Rubbing his wrists as feeling returned to the numb appendages, he stared at the water.

“Do they… do those other women have to be here for this?” he asked. Sam laughed, but turned to face the group, saying something in their language. They laughed and hooted, but left the room anyway. “What did you tell them?”

“That you’re intimidated by their beauty,” Sam answered smoothly. “Really, you’d be surprised how far a little flattery can get you. Now, in the tub.”

“In front of you?”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Seeing as Meg told me to make sure you bathed, yeah. I’m also supposed to make sure you don’t try to run away, but with all the other people outside, I’m sure you wouldn’t be that stupid, right?”

Castiel still hesitated, only stripping out of his soiled, stained clothes when Sam turned his back. He scrambled into the tub, his movements sending water sloshing over the brim and onto the hut’s dirt floor. But after a moment the heat soaking into his starved, exhausted body relaxed him, and he found himself sinking farther into the water, not even protesting when Sam picked up a brush and began to scrub his back.

“Huh, good skin,” he commented. “You’re a little too scrawny to get a good meal out of, though.” Castiel froze until Sam laughed. “I’m teasing you. Meg doesn’t eat her pets. Well, not unless they’re disobedient.”

“Who is she?” Castiel asked again.

“She’s… I don’t really know.” Sam moved on from Castiel’s back to his hair, washing the sweat and dust from it. “Ruby says she’s a god. Jess says that she’s immortal. Meg herself says that she’s just a cannibal. You don’t really ask questions here, not if you want to live a nice, long life that’s relatively comfortable. She might tell you one day, if you ask nicely and if she likes you.”

“Ruby and Jess are your… owners?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah. We grew up together, and when Jess got old enough, she snatched me up. She and Ruby got married a few years later, so I guess I belong to both of them now.”

“How long have you been here?”

Sam shrugged again. “They don’t… they really don’t count years and stuff like we do. My best guess is maybe twenty? Twenty two, maybe? I was five years old when I wound up here after our ship sank off the coast. My father and older brother somehow wound up in a different lifeboat, and the one I was on got drawn here, even though the men swore they’d been rowing away from the island. They all got captured and eaten, but Meg decided to keep me, since I was young and trainable. Plus, I was apparently a pretty cute kid.”

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll eat you?” Castiel asked.

“Nah,” Sam replied, handing Castiel a bar of dark soap. “You get your front. They won’t eat me. Ruby and Jess aren’t done having kids yet, and they want them all to look like each other. Plus, they like me. You wouldn’t eat your favorite dog, would you?”

“But the other men? They will be…”

“Oh, yeah. We’re gonna eat them,” Sam said casually. “Pretty lucky you guys showed up when you did. Meg was just starting to get sick like she does if she doesn’t eat people for a while, and we were all getting tired of fish and rabbit.” He laughed at the look on Castiel’s face. “You get used to it, really. You aren’t the first man they’ve taken that didn’t grow up here. They all adjusted.”

Castiel felt his belly tighten in fear. “What… am I required to do? To avoid _that.”_

“Keep her happy,” Sam said simply. “Brush her hair and bathe her and keep her hut clean. Pleasure her when she wants it and stay out of sight when she wants you to do that. Don’t look directly at her face. Keep your eyes down in her presence. You’ll figure out how much you can get away with eventually. Don’t disobey. Help us gather fruit and fish and prepare meals, help us make leather and go through the things on the ships that run aground here, and help us take them apart.”

“And the men?”

Suddenly seriously, Sam nodded. “Yes. Sometimes you have to help us kill them, or capture them, or skin them.”

Castiel shuddered. “I can’t do that.”

“You can,” Sam encouraged. “I promise, you can. When it’s you or them, you can do it. But I will give you some advice: Meg loves stories.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sam gestured toward the bookshelf, and a small, soft smile came to his face. “When I was a child she would have me read to her. She said I had a good voice for it. The last time she was sick, she had me read to her, too.”

“I know stories,” Castiel said.

“Fiction?”

His face fell. “No. I preferred biographies and history.”

“Well, you have a good voice,” Sam complimented. “I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do with her, eventually. Until then, keep your head down and do what you’re told, and you’ll survive.”

With a final pat, Sam stood and gestured for Castiel to exit the tub. He did, dripping water onto the floor, and took the rough towel that was offered to him. Sam stopped him when he reached for his clothes. “I know they’re filthy, but…”

“You won’t be needing them anymore,” Sam said, gesturing to the short, oddly colored leather skirt he wore. “You’ll get something else when butchering time is over, but really, who wants to have to scrub all that blood off every time? I don’t. These are easier.”

Walking over to the door, Sam shouted something outside. A moment later he reappeared with a silver plate filled with fruit, cheese that had obviously come from the _Blackbird_ , and a small sliver of meat.

“Is that--“

“It’s pig,” Sam said, cutting him off. “There’s a small population of wild boar on the island. Hard to hunt, but worth it. We didn’t think human was good for you, not on your first day as one of us. Eat.”

Castiel wrapped the towel around him and obeyed, sitting on the floor and reminding himself to eat slowly, lest his body reject the food after days of going without it. Before he’d finished, a soft voice filled the doorway, and Sam turned to face it, his head bowed.

Meg, the woman from before, sauntered in. “He looks a lot better clean. Smells it, too.”

Sam didn’t comment, but simply nodded. Meg laughed and moved forward, stretching up on her toes to scratch his head. “C’mon, Sam. You can talk.”

“I told him what he needed to know,” Sam muttered. “He won’t run.”

Meg switched to the islander’s language as she continued to talk to Sam, occasionally glancing over at Castiel and gesturing. After a few minutes she sent him on his way and turned to look fully at Castiel, who kept his eyes pinned to her feet. Bare and dirty, the hem of her dress brushed over her toes, but when she walked toward him, he noticed several gold bracelets decorating her ankles. The necklace of teeth around her neck clacked together softly as she walked, and her fingers were soft when she bent in front of him and placed them under his chin.

“You can look.”

He did, raising his eyes a fraction. Up close, he noticed that her lips were impossibly red, as if she’d painted them with blood. She blinked, and her eyes filled with darkness, the whites disappearing into midnight black. Fighting the urge to flinch away, Castiel stared into them, not even daring to blink.

She laughed again. “Oh, I like you. I think I’ll name you Clarence.”

“My name is Castiel,” he said quietly.

“You belong to me now. I get to name you,” she told him. “Besides, that’s a weird name. Sam told you what I expect?”

“I think so.”

She dropped his chin and stood. “Good. Then you know better than to run, which would only make us eat you. I can tolerate a lot, but not that.” Meg reached into her dress and pulled out a strip of black leather with a buckle on the ends and a small, metal loop near the middle. “Stand up.”

Castiel obeyed, bowing his head slightly in an imitation of what Sam had done. Now that he was standing, he saw how short the woman was, and how delicate looking she seemed. If he was properly fed, he could have easily overpowered her.

As if sensing his thoughts, she reached out and slapped him. He stumbled and fell to the floor under the force of her blow. She was stronger than she looked, despite her delicate appearance.

“Stand up,” she ordered again. Trembling, he did. This time she placed her hand gently over his throbbing cheek and rubbed the skin. “I do not want to hurt you, but if I have to in order to train you, I will. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and continued to rub his cheek. After a moment her hand traveled downward, stroking his neck before moving backward to run her fingers through his hair. She scratched his scalp and behind his ears with her sharp nails, her midnight eyes trained on his face. He found himself unconsciously leaning into her touch, moving his head for her whenever her hand moved to pet him.

Her other hand came to rest on his neck, and he felt the gentle press of leather against his throat. She moved both hands behind his neck and fastened the collar, pressing two fingers under it to test its tightness. Satisfied that she could fit her fingers underneath it, Meg stepped away.

Castiel carefully raised his hand and touched it. Clearly the material had come from some ship or another that had landed on the island. The leather was soft and supple, clearly professionally made, and the metal ring on the front suggested it was intended for a dog or other animal.

“It’s a little plain, but it’ll do, for now. Normally I like my pets to look fancier,” Meg said. She gave his injured cheek a final, playful tap with two of her fingers before strolling back outside and returning with a pair of short, black pants. “Here. Put those on and get to cleaning the tub. Afterward, you can go down to the river with the other men to do the wash. Sam should be right outside. He’ll stay with you until we’re sure you’re not going to try to run. But you’re not stupid enough to do that to me, are you?”

He shook his head, and Meg smiled.

.

Exhausted, Castiel watched as the men and women filtered back into their huts while the moon hung in the sky. He’d spent the day with Sam, washing clothes in the river, before the taller man had led him back to Meg’s hut and told him to stay put on the porch. He’d obeyed, watching as men and women went about their business, talking and laughing with one another as children darted between homes. More than one a group of girls would stop, glance in his direction, and begin giggling, or else the children would approach the porch’s low railing and stare curiously before asking questions in their strange, guttural language. He could not answer them, of course, and the children quickly grew bored and scampered back to their games.

Sam had promised that Meg would be along in a little while with her dinner, and that she would feed him afterward, but she never came. Afraid to investigate, he’d simply sat on her porch even after night fell, and with it came the colder air that had him shivering in the short cotton pants Meg had given him.

He fingered his collar again, tempted to tear it off. But then the wind blew, stinging his injured cheek, and thought better of it. She was clearly the leader of the women on the island, and he knew that if she wished him dead, none of the islanders would hesitate to kill him.

He just needed to keep his head down long enough to find a way to escape. They had already begun tearing the _Blackbird_ apart, but according to what Sam had told him, boats landed on the island all the time, and fish was a large part of their diet. All he had to do was obey her until he was trusted enough to go fishing on a boat, or could steal a lifeboat from one of the ships that ran aground on the island. If he was careful, he could even steal one, hide it in the jungle, and collect provisions before he sailed away.

Meg appeared on the path and walked onto the porch while he was lost in thought. She snapped her fingers, bringing him back to reality. “Where have you been?”

“Here,” he answered. “Sam said to wait for you.”

“Well, shit. I forgot,” she said. “Get inside.”

He obeyed, scrambling through the cloth that served as a door and pulling it aside for Meg as she entered. She walked toward the featherbed and fell into it, groaning, before she stood again and raised her arms. He shuffled from foot to foot, uncertain.

“Come do your damn job,” Meg snapped at him. He walked toward her slowly and gently undid the belt keeping her dress in place, placing it on the bed when he finished before slowly drawing her dress over her head. She was naked underneath, and her skin seemed to glow in the feeble moonlight coming from the smoke hole in the center of the roof. She lowered her arms and turned to look at him, unashamed of her nakedness. Her voice suddenly became softer as she pressed something into his hand. “Light some of the candles.”

He closed his fingers around the matches she had pressed into his hand and stumbled in the darkness, feeling his way to the chest of drawers beside her bed. Once he was there, he lit several of the candles, the feeble light doing little to illuminate the space. Once he was done, Meg pointed to the top drawer, and he opened it, pulling out a long, white nightgown with a low neckline and short sleeves. Meg turned and held her arms up again.

He pulled the garment over her head and then stood behind her with his arms lowered. She hummed softly and threw her dress and belt off the bed, her legs slightly spaced apart, and gestured for him to kneel. Once he did, she leaned down and kissed him softly.

“Did Sam tell you how to be a good boy for me?” she asked softly. Confused, he shook his head.

“He told me that you enjoyed stories, and that I should please you,” he answered. Meg sighed and reached down to pat his cheek while she spread her legs wider.

“You’re too pretty to eat just now, so I’ll tell you exactly what I want you to do for me,” she said. “You’re my pet now, Clarence, understand? That means you do what I tell you to do, without question. You don’t look me in the eyes unless I tell you to. You keep my home clean and you bring me food. Feel the ground under you, feel that? The nice fur rug? That’s your new bed. When I’m done with you at night, that’s where you’ll sleep. You’re to brush my hair and bathe me when I wish, keep my clothing clean, and dress and undress me when I tell you do. Understand me?”

He swallowed and dropped his eyes to her stomach, focusing on the rough, white material. “Yes.”

She put her fingers under his chin and forced him to look into her midnight eyes. “Have you ever touched a woman, Clarence?”

“No,” he answered honestly.

She smiled at him, her pointed teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Her other hand drew the hem of her nightgown up around her waist. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll teach you exactly what do to.”

She did, guiding his head between her legs as she spoke softly to him, gentle and encouraging. He listened to the small, quiet noises she made above him, marveling at the way her body moved at his touch, at the smell of her and the texture of her under his tongue, and wondered if all women enjoyed a man’s mouth on them so much. He had always been shy around women, and the few times his brothers had pushed him into kissing games as a child, he’d been so clumsy that the girls had laughed at him, and it was enough for Castiel to give up on women altogether. But he found that he had no need to be nervous under Meg’s instruction, despite the fact that at any time she could order him to be killed and eaten. She was gentler than he expected her to be, running her foot up his bare back and brushing her fingers through his hair, her voice eventually breaking off into a chorus of loud, breathy moans.

Meg pulled him away when she let out a final cry, her thighs tightening around his head, and gently patted his cheek. “You’re a natural, Clarence. I think I’ll keep you. Now, up. My hairbrush is next to the candles.”

He stood and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before moving for the brush. When he moved back to the bed Meg turned around, her legs crossed, and gestured for him to continue.

Having grown up with several sisters, brushing hair was one area that he had experience with. He ran the soft bristles through her hair until the dark tresses shone in the moonlight, and then hesitated before setting the brush aside and chancing a question.

“Would you… would you like me to braid it for you, Miss?” he asked.

Meg shrugged. “Go for it, Clarence.”

“What kind would you like?”

She blew out a hard breath, and Castiel could tell he was beginning to annoy her. “Surprise me.”

Calling up half-remembered days playing with his sisters in their family home, Castiel began weaving Meg’s hair into an intricate braided hairdo that he remembered his older sister, Anna, wearing to bed. Making two simple braids on either side of her head, he wove them together before separating her hair into five strands and working swiftly, looking around for a piece of leather or a cord to keep the braid together.

Meg reached back, her soft fingers pressing against his as she took the end of the braid in her hands. “Middle drawer has things for my hair.”

Rooting around, he took the offered braid when she passed it back to him and tied it off, suddenly aware of how easy it would be to lean forward and wrap his fingers around her neck. Meg turned, as if reading his thoughts, and smiled at him, showing off her pointed teeth.

“You can’t kill me,” she said quietly. “Maybe one day, if you’re a really good boy, I’ll tell you why. But I know Sam told you some things, and he was right about some of them. I am immortal. I’ve been alive since before your great-grandparents were even a thought, let alone you.”

Pulling away from him, she settled into her bed and pulled the old, faded blankets around her. “Blow out the candles before you go to sleep, Clarence. If you need a blanket, there’s one under the bed.”

He stood over her for several moments, watching as she fell asleep, and finally obeyed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Escape proved impossible.

Castiel was watched almost every moment on the island. When he wasn’t with Meg, being tugged around by his throat by the small woman, he was with Sam, who took the chain she used as a leash without comment. Some days he felt more like a dog as the taller man led him around the island, instructing him on how to gather fruit, gut and clean animals, and launder the clothes that the people had taken from corpses or from the bowels of the ships that landed on their island.

Most days he spent his waking hours kneeling at Meg’s feet in the island’s central clearing, the end of his leash in her hand as she lounged on what he’d come to think of as her throne. In all his time there, he still had not gotten used to the thing. Made of human bones, it towered higher than his head, and was constructed so poorly that he could not say what kept it from collapsing. The bones themselves were old and varied, some bleached white from the sun and some brown and rotting, but all of them were human, and, Meg told him, not all of them were male.

“I eat the women, too,” she’d told him the first time he’d seen it. “The ones who’re too old, or start screaming when I eat their husbands.”

He’d shuddered, and she’d laughed, spread her legs, and told him to get to work.

But it was not all bad.

Spending time with Sam was a welcome reprieve from being in the clearing with Meg and the women, watching as his crewmates were cooked and eaten one by one, their skinny bodies being fed to the fire. Sam’s children, too, were a bright spot in his day, and the man clearly adored them. He had four little girls who constantly begged for their father to pick them up and carry them places, or throw them in the air and catch them, or simply tell them a story or watch them swim. All four of them looked more like Sam than they did their mothers, and when Jess and Ruby’s stomachs began to swell, the older man predicted that his two new children would look like him as well.

Sam even began teaching him the island’s language, and although Castiel resisted at first, still planning to escape, he eventually relented. Sitting with Meg in the clearing, he began to pick up snippets of conversation, and was surprised to learn that, just like the people he’d known back home, there wasn’t much difference. Most of the women talked to each other about their wives or their men or their children, and occasionally about their hair, the clothes and gems they’d taken from the ship, and the state of their houses. He learned who needed a roof replaced and who could be counted on for gossip. He learned that several of the children thought he talked funny, as they had never heard any English except for the screams coming from the men and women they cooked and ate.

He learned that they were worried about running out of people to eat.

That Castiel couldn’t understand. He knew that you could get sick from eating human flesh, although the people on the island never seemed to. At first he wondered if it was some sort of strange religious belief, but after a while he learned that the people of the island had no god that they worshiped, or if they did, they did not speak of it in public, but none of their conversations implied that their cannibalism was due to religious belief. Although he had not been allowed to hunt or take a boat to fish with some of the other men and women, he knew that there were food sources available on the island based off of the amount of rabbits and fish he’d cleaned with Sam.

Meg offered no explanation for the behavior, and he asked for none. The welts on his back were a stark reminder not to question her.

And yet, even she was not all bad. After his first day in the clearing, kneeling by her throne, his knees had ached so badly that he thought he might cry, and when she saw that several of the bones had cut through his skin, she’d sat him down on her bed and tended to the wounds herself. The next morning a plush cushion had appeared on the dirt, and from then on that was where he knelt. She always made sure that he was fed and that his clothes were clean and comfortable, and spoke harshly to the children that pointed and laughed at him, although her words were too fast for him to understand. Often she fed him from her own hands, plucking fruit from her plate and holding it to his lips.

She was as free with her praise as she was with her discipline, alternating between slaps, a belt, and harsh words when he did something wrong. But when he pleased her she was full of praise. Her voice then was always soft, her touch gentle, and her gifts plentiful. After his first week on the island she had given him a new collar that was heavy with gems and sparkled in the sunlight. After a month she had told him to hold still while she put a needle through his earlobe and worked a gold hoop into the hole she left behind, turning his head back and forth to watch as the sunlight played off the gold.

On some level, he knew that she was decorating him as a way to show him off, was prettying him up to prove that she was the one with the nicest pet on the island. And yet he appreciated her gifts all the same. If he was lucky they would buy him passage home when he escaped.

But with each day his hope of escape dimmed. The boats were closely guarded, and it was clear that Meg would never let him near one on his own, despite his repeated promises that he would not leave her. The other men would be no help to him, either. They seemed complacent in their captivity, even celebrating with the women when the last man from the _Blackbird_ was killed and eaten.

But after that, the celebrations stopped, and he noticed that the people walked carefully around Meg, as if afraid of her. Meg didn’t seem to mind, so he didn’t question it. She was their leader, he’d learned, and it was only right for her people to have a healthy amount of fear of what she might do to them.

As the weeks went by, he tried to pretend that he had accepted his fate, settling into the routine. He cleaned kills and kept Meg’s hut presentable, sweeping the floor and polishing the meager furniture. He kept her happy, pleasuring her when she required it and staying out of her sight when she wanted time alone. Over time her discipline became less frequent, and he found himself on the receiving end of gentle touches and small, soft kisses more often, and wondered if Meg was beginning to believe that he had become complacent in his captivity.

When he found himself whistling as he swept the dirt from Meg’s hut, he wondered if there was some truth to his lie.

It had been two months.

.

“See, it’s not all bad,” Sam said, nudging Castiel lightly with his shoulder. Castiel swayed to the side and gripped his fishing pole tighter. Sam still spoke to him in English when they were alone, and Castiel was grateful. While the older man was a good tutor when it came to the islander’s language, he found the familiarity of English comforting.

Castiel sighed and stared out at the water. His backside was nearly numb from sitting on the rocks along the shore for hours, and the smell of fish coming off of their small bucket was overwhelming. But for all of that, he had to admit that it was peaceful here alone with Sam on the other side of the island with nothing around them but the trees and the ocean.

“Sam, I know I’m not supposed to ask questions,” he began, settling the pole between his legs and gripping it with his thighs so he could stretch his arms. “But some of the other women look worried when they look at Meg, now that the crew from the _Blackbird_ are…gone.”

Sam’s eyes darkened for a moment. “We’ll be fine. There’s always another ship.”

“Should I worry?”

Sam shook his head. “No. You’re her pet, and you seem to have adjusted. Nothing to worry about.”

“What’s going on, Sam?”

The older man hesitated, then drew his line out of the water. “Come on. We have enough fish for now. Let’s go tend to the vegetables.”

Following Sam’s lead, Castiel pulled his pole from the water and picked up the bucket, following Sam toward the small hut that sat near the beach. The building, made of packed mud, was so low that they both had to stoop inside of it. Stowing the fishing poles and leaving the bucket, Sam brought them over to a small patch of vegetables before he answered.

“Meg is… she gets sick,” Sam explained as he bent to pull the weeds growing between the plants. “Without human meat, I mean. She needs it.”

“Surely rabbit and fish can provide the nutrients she--”

Sam cut him off. “No.”

“No? Sam, you can go mad from eating human flesh.”

“Not here,” Sam said quietly. “There’s something about this place, Castiel. Something that drives her mad if there’s no humans to eat, specifically human males. Blood can hold her for a little while, but after a few weeks she’ll start getting sick. And it’s bad when she gets sick.”

Confused, Castiel helped Sam pull the weeds and fill their small basket with plants. “I don’t understand.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to.”

.

Later, when he was preparing dinner for Meg, he found out exactly what Sam meant about blood. Sitting by the fire where he would normally wait for Sam to finish cooking the human flesh she seemed to consume whenever she could, he saw Sam haul a bucket out from one of the huts. The smell of iron wafted toward him, and he had to fight the urge to be sick when he saw the blood lapping at the sides of the wood.

“You kept all the blood?” he asked.

“Had to,” Sam answered. Picking up a bowl and a ladle, he scooped some of the blood into the bowl before adding some of the vegetables that he and Castiel had cut up earlier in the day. Mashing them together, he handed Castiel the bowl and nodded toward Meg’s hut. “This is basically what you give her now. Tomorrow you can add some meat to it, so she has some. But until someone else lands here, this is what we’ll have to do.”

“What if no one else lands here?” Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged. “There are plenty of men left here.”

.

Put off by Sam’s comment, Castiel carefully walked toward the main clearing, expecting to find Meg sitting on her throne while she waited for him to bring her dinner to her. When he didn’t find her, he simply shrugged and started toward the house. Night had started to fall, and the past few days she had taken to going to bed early, claiming she was fatigued. Lately she’d been so tired that, instead of ordering him to pleasure her like she usually did at the end of the night, she just ordered him to go to sleep.

Her home was dark when he entered, and it took several minutes of fumbling to light the candles. When he did, Castiel saw Meg huddled on the bed, shivering under several blankets.

“Clarence?”

“I brought your dinner,” he said quietly, watching as Meg sat up in bed. Her nostrils flared at the scent of blood and she ripped the bowl from his hands, sending the spoon clattering to the floor. She ignored it and scooped the blood soaked vegetables from the bowl with her hands, stuffing them in her mouth and sending blood running down her chin. She licked it from her skin as well, sucking it from her fingers and running her tongue around her mouth.

After a moment she stopped shivering and quietly handed the bowl back to him. “Did you eat?”

Risking punishment, Castiel ignored her question. She was wrapped up in layers of old, faded sweaters, making her seem even smaller than she was, almost like a child. He suddenly realized how young she looked, and wondered what her true age was. She had claimed to be immortal, but in reality looked to be about seventeen, even younger than him.

“Would you like a bath?” he asked instead of answering her. Meg looked at her sticky hands and frowned.

“No. I’m feeling better. Answer the question.”

“I’ll eat in a moment,” he promised. Somewhere in the back of his head instinct was screaming at him to run, that Meg was vulnerable and could not stop him if he left her. But another part of him, strangely, wanted to care for her. She reminded him of his younger sister, Hael, when she had been deathly ill. His voice took on the same soft tone he had used with her. “Do you need anything?”

Hesitating, Meg glanced toward the bookshelf. Clearly she did not want to show him that she was weak, but he had already seen. “Read to me,” she requested.

“Alright.”

Picking up a random book, Castiel had to suppress a snort when he opened it and read the first page. Only a few words dotted the paper, but there was a beautifully done picture of a princess in a tower, guarded by a dragon. Flipping through the book, he saw similar tales, and realized that it was a collection of children’s stories. Figuring she would be uninterested in it, Castiel went to slide it back into place, stopping when Meg spoke.

“No, I want to hear that one.”

He didn’t have time to wonder why she had a book of children’s fairytales, or why she wanted to hear them. Instead, he simply nodded and walked back toward the bed, preparing to sit on the rug and read to her when Meg grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the mattress.

“I want to see the pictures.”

He nodded and opened the book, surprised when Meg wiggled under his arm and rested her head on his chest. Despite the fact that she was free with her gentle touches and kind words, they were more like the pats and praises that one might’ve given the family dog than actual gestures of affection. Instead of commenting, Meg poked him in the chest and wrapped her arm around his waist before settling against him fully.

Not knowing what else to do, he read, getting halfway through the book before he heard her gentle breathing and knew she was asleep. He closed it gently and turned to set it on the chest of drawers next to the bed, preparing to slip onto the rug, when he felt Meg’s arm tighten around his middle. He looked down and saw her blinking sleepily in the faint light, her gaze confused.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed.”

Meg shook her head and tugged at him until he was once again lying on the mattress. “No, Clarence. You’re staying here. You’re warm.”

He noticed that she had started shivering again, even under all the layers of sweaters and the blankets, and nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she snapped. And for a moment he felt strangely relieved. She sounded like the woman he had met two months ago instead of a sick, frightened child. He had no idea what to expect from her in that condition, had no idea what would lead to a slap to the face or a belt to his back. But Meg acting like she normally did was something he knew how to manage, and how to avoid angering.

Sam’s words came back to him. _Keep her happy._

Shifting only so he could blow out the candles, Castiel wrapped an arm around her and pulled Meg closer to his chest. She gave a small sigh and tucked her head under his chin, sending the scent of blood wafting toward his nostrils. Her mouth was still smeared red, and her fingers were still sticky where they gripped his stomach, but at the moment he didn’t mind.

It was almost peaceful, there in her bed, with Meg sleeping next to him and no threat of punishment looming over his head. With nothing required of him at all except keeping her warm and comfortable, it felt almost comfortable, and after a moment he felt himself dropping into the first peaceful sleep he’d had since coming to her island.

.

She was worse the next morning, barely speaking as Castiel gently coaxed the layers of clothing from her body and helped her into the bathtub. She shivered even as the water steamed, and moved where he told her to without comment, obeying him without protest. At first, he felt uneasy about giving her orders when he was used to taking them from her, but the longer he went without punishment, the easier it got.

“Maybe you should stay in bed today,” he suggested gently when he helped Meg from the tub. She glared at him and wrapped a towel around her body, cursing when the fabric caught in the small rings made of bone that dangled from her nipples. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m _fine,”_ she snapped. “Shut up and help me get dressed.”

He did what he was told, but when she leaned into him and gripped his shoulder for support as he walked her to her throne, he knew that he was right. She stumbled the entire way as if she was drunk, staring at the dirt path as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, her hold on the end of his leash so loose that he could’ve easily have bolted.

But he didn’t. Instead, he bent and pulled her up into his arms. “Let me carry you. Your feet are getting dirty.”

Meg blew out an irritated breath, but threw her arms around his neck and let him carry her. Up close he saw that she had dark circles under her eyes, making them look even bigger than they were. Suddenly he was aware of exactly how small she was in his arms, and how frail. Despite the fact that she had spent the better part of two months delivering stinging slaps and claiming she was immortal, he was fairly sure that, in her current state, overpowering her would take no effort at all.

As if sensing his thoughts, Meg wriggled in his arms and demanded to be set on her feet again. “You’ll just clean them again later,” she told him, swaying slightly on her feet. “Get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure you don’t nee-”

Meg slapped him, cutting off the rest of his words. The blow stung his pride more than his flesh since she was so weak, but it had the desired effect all the same. While before he had been concerned for her, he now felt hatred bubbling in his chest.

“I don’t care what you do with yourself today. Just go,” Meg ordered. He watched her walk unsteadily toward the main clearing for a moment before he obeyed.

The night before had been peaceful, and for a little while he had felt different around Meg, more like they were friends instead of a cannibalistic queen and her pet. But her punishment had reminded him exactly where they stood, and warned him not to become attached to her or too complacent, reminded him that he had to escape, that she was a killer and a lunatic to boot.

Instead of seeking out Sam or one of the other men, Castiel walked back to the house and left his leash on the bed. After going through his usual chores, he walked into the trees, carefully making his way through the foliage as he kept a lookout for animals or other people.

It was the first time since his first day with Meg that he was allowed time alone. Usually Sam was at his back, watching him carefully for any sign that he would try to flee. Even with the threat of poisonous snakes or wild hogs, the jungle still felt peaceful, almost too quiet. Still, he walked for about an hour, stopping when he reached a small, natural clearing with a large, unnatural looking cluster of plants near the edge.

His heart nearly stopped when he noticed the unmistakable shape of a boat under the branches.

Sprinting toward the edge of the clearing, Castiel tore away the branches and leaves camouflaging the lifeboat until it was completely exposed. The small vessel laid bottom-up on the jungle floor, and when he managed to lift it a little, he saw two perfect oars protected under it. The boat itself was small, smaller than even the lifeboats on the _Blackbird_ , but it was big enough for one person and a small cache of supplies. The only problems were the two large holes in the hull, but due to his time on the _Blackbird,_ Castiel knew that he could repair them.

For a moment he wondered how the boat had come to be there, if perhaps some other ambitious man had left it far in the jungle, planning to repair it and escape, but had been found out and eaten, or simply couldn’t figure out how to do it. In any case, if he could fix it and gather enough supplies, it would be a way off of the island. Even if he didn’t know exactly where he was, or how far another inhabited stretch of land was, dying at sea still sounded better than being killed and eaten by Meg and her subjects.

Gathering the supplies he needed would be risky, as would sneaking away from the village and finding the time to complete his project, but in the end Castiel knew that it would be worth it.

Carefully covering the boat again, Castiel wandered to the opposite shore of the island and began harvesting food from the trees. That way, if anyone asked where he had been, he could simply hold the food out in answer.

He only slunk back into Meg’s hut after night had fallen, walking softly in order to avoid waking her. He found her sitting up in bed, the book from the previous night open in her lap as she squinted at it in the feeble candlelight.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” she said. “Come read to me.”

He obeyed, climbing into her bed once again. Her face was clean of blood, and he suspected that she was feeling better. His suspicions were confirmed when she didn’t cuddle up next to him like she had the night before, but instead kept her distance, her hands neatly folded in her lap.

He read, once again telling her tales of princesses in towers or forced into an enchanted sleep. Halfway through the book he felt her fingers rest lightly on his neck before stroking the skin there. He froze, suddenly afraid that she was going to punish him.

“I’m sorry,” she told him instead. “I wasn’t feeling well. You were only trying to take care of me.” She shifted slightly on the bed and reached to run her fingers through his hair, keeping her voice soft. “You really are pretty, you know? And I haven’t been very nice to you lately, have I?”

“You’ve been more than kind,” he said cautiously, keeping his eyes focused on the book. The image of a princess in a tower stared back up at him. “Would you like me to continue reading this, or pick another novel? Or would you like me to braid your hair?”

“Look at me,” she ordered. “Put the book down and look at me.”

Swallowing hard, he did. Meg’s eyes were no longer brown, but instead filled with black as they only were when she was angry with him or he did something especially pleasing with his tongue or fingers. Her red lips, slightly parted, seemed almost too big on her pale face. Her other hand came up to cup his cheek, forcing him to face her.

“Do you think I’m pretty, pet?” she asked softly.

He swallowed again. “Of course.”

She took his head in both of her hands and leaned forward to softly press her lips to his, and Castiel had to fight against jerking away from her. She hadn’t kissed him since his first night in her possession, and immediately after that she had forced him to his knees in front of her and pressed his head between her legs. He couldn’t help but wonder what other thing she had thought up for him to do, what her kiss could possibly signal.

But Meg didn’t do anything other than gently move her lips against his, coaxing him to respond to her. Eventually he did, keeping his hands firmly on the book while he waited for whatever she had planned for him.

Pulling away from him, Meg frowned. “Put the book down and come here, Clarence.”

He obeyed, like he always did, and settled the book on the low chest of drawers next to Meg’s bed before he turned to face her. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the faint light coming in through the windows and the hole in the roof, making her look like some strange creature out of a book of children’s stories. She smiled, showing off her pointed teeth, and took his hands, positioning them on her waist.

“You can touch me, if you like,” she whispered. “It’s okay if I say so.”

She kissed him again before he could reply, keeping her lips closed. Her cold hands stroked his shoulders before she wound her arms around his neck, pushing herself up on her knees so they were the same height. Her skin was cold under the nightgown she wore to bed and her fingers were like ice on his back, and he wondered how a woman who was so warm between the legs could be so cold everywhere else.

A minute later he found out that her tongue was warm as well. She slipped it into his mouth without him realizing what she was doing, causing him to jerk away and her to laugh. Castiel realized that he’d never heard her laugh before, not like this. She sounded genuinely amused, even happy.

She brought their lips together again, encouraging him to move with her. He slipped his tongue into her mouth in a clumsy imitation of her own practiced ease and tasted blood, shivering when he probed her pointed teeth. She moaned into his mouth, her body twisting, demanding silently that he move his hands.

For once he didn’t need an order. His fingers seemed to move on their own, stroking her back through the thin nightgown, warming her cold flesh. He pushed his fingers through her long, tangled hair and felt Meg sigh into his mouth as he worked out the tangles.

She drew away from him as suddenly as she’d kissed him, moving her mouth downward. He felt her teeth scrape against his jaw and shivered, suddenly afraid. But he only had a moment to let the feeling roll through him before Meg sank her teeth into the spot where his neck and shoulder joined and all he felt was pain. He yelped and instinctively dug his fingers into her shoulders, managing at the last minute to control himself and not push her away.

Meg let out an inhuman snarl against his skin and pushed herself forward, rising up on her knees to slither into his lap. The motion sent her teeth tearing through his skin and Castiel yelled again, gripping her shoulders so hard that he knew he would leave bruises on her skin. But the pain only seemed to make Meg more excited and she bit him harder, working her pointed teeth into his flesh until Castiel felt blood welling from the puncture marks. Without a sound Meg wrenched her head to the side, opening a jagged wound on his shoulder, and clamped her mouth over it, her hips moving as she drank.

Her tongue felt rougher than another humans, making him wince as she greedily moved it over the wound to take his blood. After a moment she raised her head from the wound to rub their cheeks together.

“Touch me,” she whispered. Swallowing hard, Castiel obeyed, forcing himself to move his hands away from her shoulders. Meg obligingly spread her legs wider and returned to his shoulder, once again biting him when the blood stopped flowing from the wound.

Oddly glad that Meg was finally sliding into a pattern that was somewhat familiar to him, Castiel slipped his fingers between her legs and set to work. Once she was satisfied Meg sagged against him, lazily licking the wound on his shoulder. It burned at her touch, but he kept his hands limp at his sides and waited for her to climb off of him.

Instead, Meg sighed happily and wrapped her arms around him to press them close together. She was cold again, but he found that he didn’t mind. It was a welcome relief from the heat of the island and the burning in his shoulder.

“You’re a good pet, Clarence,” she said quietly, pressing her face against his neck. “I’m going to give you a special treat one day when I’m feeling better.” He shuddered, wondering what exactly she had in mind, and went to pull away from her. Meg tightened her grip on him. “Put your arms around me, Clarence.”

He did. Meg held onto him for a long time, until the moon had passed overhead and her small home was plunged into complete darkness. His legs began to ache, and the wound on his shoulder throbbed and itched with healing, but he did not pull away from her, not with her teeth so close to the soft flesh of his throat.

Finally, he realized that her breathing had deepened and she had fallen asleep.

Gently untangling them, Castiel set Meg on her bed and fumbled around until he could relight the candles that had burned out. Undressing quickly, he slid into the copper tub, hissing at the cold water, and carefully washed himself before he worked on his shoulder. It stung when he touched it, and with the faint light Castiel could only guess what it looked like. But the skin felt jagged and uneven, and for a moment he was glad he could not see what Meg had done to him.

Clumsily wrapping the pair of pants Meg had given him around the wound to keep it from opening again during the night, Castiel stepped back out the tub and hesitated, unsure of where to sleep. Meg had been unpredictable since she had run out of humans to eat, and it was impossible to tell which of his actions would bring punishment. Already he would have to delay working on his escape while his shoulder healed. If she decided to physically punish him for being in her bed, or for not being in her bed, it might take weeks until he could get to work.

Before he could make the choice, Meg rolled over and threw her arm out as if searching for another body. She made a small noise of displeasure in her sleep and rolled over again.

Decision made, Castiel blew out the candles and slipped into the bed. Meg latched onto him almost immediately, tangling their legs together and throwing one arm over his chest.

She must’ve really been sick, if she was cuddling up to him voluntarily.

For the first time in a long time, Castiel felt himself smile. If he could deal with her mood swings, then getting away from Meg to work on the boat would be easy since she was in such a vulnerable state.

Knowing he would need all his strength for the work ahead, Castiel tried to ignore the small woman snuggling with him and settled down to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

“Rough night?” Sam asked, nodding at the wound on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel took a deep breath and pressed his teeth together to avoid screaming as Sam dabbed alcohol on the wound. Clearly stolen from the many ships that had landed on the island over the years, the label had rotted off long ago, making it impossible to tell what kind of alcohol it was. All he knew was that it stung when it touched his wound, and that Sam assured him that it would prevent it from getting infected.

When he’d woken up that morning, Meg was gone and Sam was sitting on the bed reading, a small pile of bandages and the bottle of alcohol beside him. Castiel’s shoulder had throbbed with pain, and the wound had looked worse than he expected. His skin was ripped to shreds, with jagged pieces of flesh hanging from his shoulder and sticking to his makeshift bandage.

“Here, drink,” Sam ordered, handing Castiel the bottle. “You’ll feel better.”

Castiel obeyed, coughing when the liquor hit his throat. But after a moment the pain in his shoulder subsided, and Castiel raised the bottle to his lips again.

“She’s…I don’t know what’s happening,” Castiel told the other man.

Sam shrugged and began winding the bandages around Castiel’s shoulder, giving him a light pat when he was done. “You don’t want to.”

.

It took less than a week for Castiel to admit that Sam was probably right.

He took a little time each day to sneak out to his boat, working on it as best he could with his ruined shoulder. Meg never said anything about it, and the night in her bed was not repeated. She no longer allowed him to touch her except when she was asleep, demanding that he crawl into her bed. She always stayed at least an arm’s length from him at first, but wound up cuddled up against his side in her sleep, shivering and soaking up his warmth.

The second week he opened his eyes and found Meg sitting on the edge of her bed, shivering, with her arms wrapped around her middle. He crept up behind her cautiously, one hand hovering behind her back.

“Are you ill?” he asked quietly.

Meg didn’t answer. A small, pained moan slipped from her mouth before she doubled over and vomited onto the floor, her body heaving with the effort. Castiel winced, watching as the dark-red vomit splattered against the faded rug at the foot of her bed. Reaching out, he pulled her long, dark hair away from her face as she continued heaving, strings of bloody vomit clinging to her teeth and chin.

_Run,_ something in the back of his mind said. _She cannot catch you now._

There was no way she could, in her current state. She stopped vomiting and began shaking, pressing her face between her knees and gulping in air. The repairs to his boat were almost complete, its condition not being as bad as he first thought, and he knew that, with the whole island occupied with taking care of her, no one would think to look for him.

But then Meg raised her head, and he saw her eyes were wet with tears. The part of him that had been raised by his parents to never ignore a lady in distress pushed itself to the front of his mind, and Castiel found himself drawing Meg into his arms.

She hiccupped, and then coughed against his shoulder. The smell of vomit and blood wafted off of her, and Castiel’s stomach rolled. Swallowing hard, he breathed through his mouth and stroked her hair and back, waiting for her breathing to go back to normal.

Then he heard Meg growl against his shoulder.

Stiffening, Castiel tilted his head downward as Meg slowly raised her own. She growled again, her lips drawing back to expose her long, pointed teeth. Her eyes had changed, the whites obscured as her pupils expanded to fill them, leaving two black holes staring at his face. Her fingernails bit into his shirt, shredding the material.

Fear filled him, rushing through his veins and demanding that he pull away from her. More afraid of what she might do to him now than his punishment later, Castiel tore himself out of her grip and turned to run.

But Meg was faster and stronger. She hooked her fingernails into his back and pulled him onto the bed. They went through the material easily and raked his skin, opening several long wounds that immediately leaked blood. He tried to rise again and found himself pinned to the bed by Meg as she straddled his waist. Ignoring his struggles, she tore at the front of his shirt until it was in rags around him, his chest exposed.

He hit her.

Her head rocked to the side with the force of the blow, but she barely seemed to notice it. He hit her again, ignoring the pain in his hand as it collided with her nose. Blood flowed down her face and into her mouth, settling between her teeth.

She growled at him again, fingers scrabbling at the left side of his chest, opening short, but deep, wounds. He screamed in pain as Meg dug into his skin, bucking and flailing to try to throw her off.

He should have run. He should have gotten away when he had the chance. But he hadn’t, and now he would die here, in a monster’s bed on an unknown island.

Meg shifted on top of him, sinking her nails into his shoulder to hold him still as she bent her head over the wounds. The ones in his shoulder re-opened, soaking the mattress with fresh blood as she pressed her lips to his chest. She licked him rapidly, cleaning him of blood for a moment before she bit.

Castiel kept screaming, dimly aware of the sound of raised voices just outside the hut. His vision blurred, and he saw two large hands wrap themselves around Meg’s shoulders before she was wrenched away from him, screeching. Staring in incomprehension, he watched as Meg rounded on Sam, who expertly held her at arm’s length while she growled and struggled against him.

Keeping his eyes on her, Sam bellowed something in the islander’s tongue too fast for Castiel to understand. Another woman named Cassie rushed in, her dark skin looking almost gray with fright, followed by Jess and Ruby. The latter two moved slower, hindered by their pregnancies.

Without pausing, Jess rushed for the bed and, heedless of the mess, pressed the blanket against the wound on Castiel’s chest while Ruby rummaged through Meg’s things, emerging triumphant with a large, leather belt.

Taking it from her, Cassie quickly rounded on Meg, jerked her arms behind her back, and bound her wrists while the woman turned and snapped, her pointed teeth closing less than in inch from Cassie’s ear. The woman didn’t flinch, but simply shoved Meg forward toward Sam, who easily grabbed her and turned her around.

Castiel watched as Meg continued to struggle, snapping wildly as she tried to get her hands free. Ignoring her, Sam held her tight and gestured to the women, who hastily scampered from the hut.

“Hold this here,” Jess ordered before she left him, speaking in perfect, if heavily accented, English. “We’ll be back.”

Sam switched his grip on Meg, his large hand wrapping around her throat in a nearly crushing grip, and reached for Castiel’s discarded leash. Meg still struggled, growling noises rumbling from her throat as she tried to twist out of Sam’s grip, her face going red. The noises stopped along with her struggles as her face turned purple, her eyes bulging in their sockets and her tongue poking through her blood-red lips.

“You’re hurting her,” Castiel said quietly, speaking for the first time.

“No, I’m not,” Sam told him. Using one hand, he tied the chain to the handle of the copper tub before he let go of Meg, taking advantage of her momentary stillness to wrap the other end of the leash around her middle, keeping her arms pinned to her sides.

The other women came back, bearing buckets and talking in their native language, each bucket filled to the brim with steaming water. Jess dumped hers into the tub first and came to Castiel.

“Are you very hurt?”

He shook his head. His wounds throbbed, but they were shallower than he first suspected. The ones on his back had stopped bleeding, and the blood from his chest was only a trickle.

Jess nodded. “Good. Come and hold her.”

Castiel rose from the bed, wincing, but went with Jess as Sam swung Meg, who had resumed her screeching, into the tub. She let out a small, animal-like whine and sunk into the water. It lapped at her skin, sending pinkish streaks of liquid rolling down her body.

“Get in,” Sam ordered. “Hold her straight.” When Castiel hesitated, Sam let out his own growl. “I can’t fit in the tub anymore.”

Jess gave him a shove, and Castiel stumbled toward the tub. He slipped into the hot water, letting out a pained gasp as it rolled over his skin. But the presence of another body seemed to make Meg angry, and she turned, attempting to throw herself at him.

The short leash stopped her just before she collided with his chest. Growling, she struggled against the chain as Sam calmly turned him around again.

“Hold her still,” he said calmly. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of what?” Castiel asked. But Sam shook his head. The women hurried out, talking among themselves in low voices, Castiel only able to catch the name “Brady” from their mutterings.

Sam, unafraid of Meg’s teeth, bent close to Castiel’s ear.

“Just be lucky it isn’t you,” he whispered. “I know about the boat.”

Castiel sat, stunned, and grabbed Meg’s shoulders to hold her straight. “What?”

“Did you think that someone _wasn’t_ following you?” Sam asked angrily. “You’re lucky Brady is a troublemaker, and that he made boats before he was shipwrecked here, so it was easy to blame him. He’ll deny it, but at this point we can’t have Meg question him, now can we?”

Castiel shivered in fear. “Will you tell her?”

Sam stared at him for a long moment, until they heard a shrill, male scream from outside.

“No. They’ll have gotten rid of it, anyway. There’s no chance to run now.”

Meg, having slumped against the edge of the tub, whined and licked her lips. Sam gently put his hand on her head and moved her wet hair from her face, his eyes filled with tenderness. Meg pushed upward into his hand and lightly nipped his finger, sucking it into her mouth to drink the blood that leaked from it.

Sam smiled down at her.

He removed his fingers when Cassie came back, covered in blood up to her elbows, a human heart cradled in her hands. Meg’s head perked up at the scent and she surged forward again, rocking the copper tub.

Cassie ignored her and gestured to Castiel.

“You feed her,” the girl ordered, her dark eyes narrowing. Castiel felt his stomach roll again as he reluctantly took the human heart from Cassie’s hand. The organ felt squishy against his skin, and fresh blood surged forward as he squeezed it.

Meg, suddenly gentle, threw herself at Castiel through the water and nuzzled against him. She whined and stretched her head toward the heart, her eyes wide and pleading.

“Slowly,” Sam told him.

Castiel obeyed, not noticing when Cassie slipped from the hut, his attention entirely focused on the small girl in the tub. She bit into the heart quickly, tearing scraps of muscle away and swallowing it without chewing. Castiel carefully kept the heart away from her, only allowing her to bite into it a little at a time.

When he’d finally let her have the last of it, careful to keep his fingers out of reach of her teeth, Meg let out a long, contented sigh. Her eyes returned to normal, the whites slowly creeping through the pools of black. She blinked and frowned, small flakes of blood tumbling from where it was crusted around her mouth.

“Castiel?”

“Clarence,” he corrected automatically. “Are you feeling better?”

She looked him up and down, taking in the wounds decorating his body, and shifted in the now-cold water. “My hands hurt.”

“I’ll do that,” Sam said behind her. Meg turned and smiled at the taller man before standing. Noticing that she was swaying slightly, Castiel reached forward and clamped his hands around her waist, trying to ignore the fact that he was eye-level with her crotch.

“Who?” she asked softly, ignoring him.

“Brady,” Sam replied just as quietly. “He was trying to escape.”

Meg closed her eyes. “Did I hurt anyone?”

Sam shook his head. “Just Clarence. And not badly.”

Castiel clenched his teeth to prevent himself from saying something. Meg, however, took herself from Sam’s grip as soon as she was free and pressed closer to her pet, one of her hands coming down to stroke his head. He flinched away from her, and felt Meg’s hand stiffen.

“If you say so.”

“Come to bed,” Sam coaxed. “You can deal with everything tomorrow.”

Meg took his hand and allowed Sam to help her from the tub, absently gesturing for Castiel to follow. “Fix him, will you?”

Sam nodded and settled her into bed before leading Castiel out onto the porch to bandage him. Castiel shrunk back from the sunlight but allowed himself to be forced into one of the chairs.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” he asked, suddenly tired. The whole ordeal couldn’t have taken more than half an hour, and yet he felt as though he had done a full day’s work.

Sam shrugged and began cleaning the wounds. “You could do well here, you know? Meg likes you.”

“What was that?” Castiel asked. “Is that what you meant when you said she gets sick if she doesn’t eat human flesh? She was like an animal.”

Sam settled his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, his large, scarred hands dangling casually between his legs.

“For as long as I can remember. The length of time is never the same, but it always happens. Sometimes she can go months between feedings, sometimes it only takes a few weeks. The longest I’ve seen her go is two years.” Sam raised his head and looked Castiel in the eyes. “I’m sorry for what happened. We should have told you. But we kept hoping…” His eyes became distant, as if he was looking at something far away.

“You were hoping for another ship, so you wouldn’t have to kill one of your own,” Castiel said slowly, suddenly understanding.

Sam nodded. “It might happen again soon. We can’t afford to cull anyone else. If that happens…” Sam shrugged.

“She’ll kill me and eat my heart.”

“Maybe not. If it happens again, if she starts shaking and vomiting, you _run._ Find me, or any of the women. She won’t go after them, and I’m big enough to hold her.”

“Has it happened before? Not being able to feed her?”

A shadow passed over Sam’s face. “Yeah. And it isn’t pretty. We have to tie her down to her bed. But there’s always a ship soon. The longest she’s gone like that was only two days. Hot water calms her, and blood does, too, to an extent.” He wiped his finger on his loose pants. “The island provides. It always does.”

“What is she?” Castiel asked. Sam shook his head.

“I really don’t know. But she’s our queen.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “You love her.”

“She raised me,” Sam said. “She let me live. She taught me her language. She made me a man and she gave me to women who wanted children as badly as I did, when she told me that she could not have them.”

“You love her,” Castiel repeated.

Sam shrugged. “As anyone loves their queen, I guess.” He rose and patted Castiel’s uninjured shoulder. “Go back in and get some sleep.”

Castiel watched Sam walk away and sat on the porch for a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight pouring through the trees. A small breeze moved over him, making the wind chimes ring softly. He watched the strings of bones and seashells twist together with the wind, staying on the porch until the breeze died down and they hung silently once again.

The hut was dark when he went in, and unnaturally cold. Meg lifted her head from the pillows when he ducked through the door, wincing in pain as the sunlight spilled over her face.

“Put the door down,” she mumbled sleepily.

He did, making sure it was secure before he stumbled toward the bed. There was enough light pouring in through the hole in the roof for him to see, but none of it fell close to her face. He noticed that she was still shivering.

She lay back on her side, arms wrapped around her middle and her eyes vacant. He saw that she had bathed, washing the dried blood from her body before she slipped back into bed.

“Would you like to hear a story?” he asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. Meg barked a rusty laugh.

“How about I tell you a story?”

He nodded slowly and turned toward her, waiting. Meg looked through him as though he wasn’t there.

“Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a girl and her father and brother on a small island, in a house by the sea. They made their living fishing and foraging for food in the jungle. It was a hard life, and they barely had enough to eat, but they had each other. The girl was very beautiful, her father’s pride and joy, and she loved him with all her heart.

“She was so beautiful, in fact, that when her brother died, Death looked upon her face and fell in love. He visited her often, watching as she went about her chores. But Death is not meant to linger in the mortal realm, and the longer he spent watching her, the more her home suffered. Her garden died, the plants rotting under her feet, the fruit and flowers withered day by day, and the animals seemed to age and die overnight. Even the fish in the sea fled the island, leaving the girl and her father starving.

“The girl’s father died, and Death was forced to come into her house again, heedless of the destruction he had caused in her life. When he saw his beloved there, weeping over the body of her father, he revealed himself to her and offered her a deal. In exchange for her hand in marriage, he would bring her father back from the grave and give him life once more, and never set foot on their island again, if she would come with him to the underworld and be his bride.”

Meg paused and drew in a shaky lungful of air. Castiel felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and wanted to tell her to stop speaking. But Meg continued, her voice low and monotone.

“Death thought that the girl would give up anything for her father, her love for him was so great. But she looked Death in the eye and refused, somehow knowing that he had been the one watching her for months, and that he was responsible for the lack of food that had killed her father. She herself had withered, her bones sticking from her skin and her long, beautiful hair lank and lifeless, so pale she looked half a corpse herself. But Death was not deterred, and tried to sweeten the deal, promising her the soul of her brother as well.

“She knew that Death would claim her soul one day, but she still declined his offer, refusing to let him have her body. But then she made her greatest mistake. She looked Death in the face and called him a monster.

“She broke his heart.”

Meg closed her eyes, and Castiel swallowed hard. “What happened next?”

She kept her eyes closed. “She thought that Death would take her soul there in their small shack. But he did much worse than that. He never wished to see her face again, so he cursed her with immortality, forcing her to live the rest of her days alone while the rest of the people on the island aged and died around her. And because she had taken his heart and broken it, he cursed her with an insatiable craving for the hearts of men.

“Then, as a parting gift, he gave her father back to her.

“They tried to move on, the girl knowing that her father would age and die and leave her again one day, determined to have as much time with him as possible. She thought Death’s curse was one of love, that it would make her take men and discard them. She was wrong.

“The full moon rose and set and rose again. Their land flourished, and was more bountiful than before. But no matter how much the girl ate, her hunger could not be satisfied. She spent time in the sun, but her skin stayed pale as a corpse. She caught small animals in the woods and ate them raw without realize what she was doing, or woke in the middle of the woods with blood on her dress and a dead animal at her feet.

“The moon changed again, and the girl fell asleep. When she awoke her father was dead, mangled at her feet. His chest was open, his ribs scattered across the floor, and his heart was in her hands. When she raised her head, horrified, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her teeth had become pointed, her eyes were black like a demon’s, and she was stained with blood. Unable to resist, she ate her father’s heart.”

Meg took a deep breath, and suddenly Castiel knew.

“She had told Death he was a monster, so he made her one,” Castiel finished for her. Meg opened her eyes and nodded.

“Yes.”

“It was you.”

“Yes.” She sat up and fixed her eyes on the wall, not really seeing it. “I killed my father and ate his heart. I killed every man on the island and I ate their hearts, and it wasn’t enough. I tried with the women, too, and it was never enough. I was sick, like before, attacking anything and eating it raw. Then a ship came, with women and children and men. They were fleeing their home, looking for a place to settle. They found me, assumed I was shipwrecked, and took me in.”

Her voice softened. “I killed them, too. But I kept the young children alive. The babies. We built a community. I ate the young men, when I became very sick. The girls and I built homes and hunted and made a life. They grew and had children, and their children had children, and every time I became very sick, another ship arrived.

“I learned to ration, to keep them alive for as long as I could so I could stave off the sickness. We built more homes. We flourished. There’s something about this place. Something wrong. The animals are plentiful, no matter how much we hunt them. The food grows faster than it should. The fish flock here. Lifeboats and ships come to our shore. We can’t be found on any map. My girls, even the men, they eat human flesh with me and don’t get sick.”

Castiel shivered. “Death still loves you.”

Meg shrugged. “I guess. I haven’t seen him lately. But if I did I’d tell him to fuck off. Maybe he’d get mad enough to finally kill me.”

He looked down at her, so small and seemingly fragile in her large bed, and chanced a question. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“How old are you now?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

Without knowing why, Castiel leaned down and kissed her gently, cupping the back of her head with his hand. Meg pulled away instantly, both of her hands on his chest.

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, or think that was a bonding moment.” She fixed her gaze on him, eyes going cold. “I wasn’t too far gone to hear Sam. I know what you were doing, and I know he lied for you.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Castiel asked, feeling a strange sense of calm.

Meg shook her head. “It would be too much trouble to train another pet now.”

Relief bubbled in his chest, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Thank you.”

Meg settled down against the pillows. “Don’t thank me, Clarence,” she said. “I’m going to do something _much_ worse.”

“I should have run while you were sick,” he said. Meg smiled at him.

“Oh, yes. You should have.”

.

He waited for Meg to make good on her promise, treading cautiously around her in the following days. But she never mentioned it, going about her business as if she had never been sick. She tugged him around on his leash, ordered him around, and administered the same amount of praise as before, absently petting his head and arms or rewarding him with soft kisses when he pleased her.

He cringed inwardly every time she did, expecting pain, and growing more and more worried when it didn’t come.

But he did notice the women building something in the main clearing while he knelt at Meg’s feet. She directed the work, gesturing wildly while Castiel tried to figure out what they were doing. Jess and Ruby sat with her, sewing and chatting about their pregnancies, occasionally forcing him to stand so they could measure some part of him.

“You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?” he asked her one night, trying to settle as far away from Meg as he could. She’d refused to let him sleep on the floor ever since she’d discovered his plan to flee, instead ordering him into her bed. He actually missed his rug.

Ignoring his attempt to stay away from her, Meg curled herself into his side and tucked her head under his chin. “Of course not. You’re too pretty to damage.”

He was about to open his mouth again when Sam burst into the hut, a triumphant smile on his face. “There’s a ship coming!”

Sitting up, Meg beamed at Sam. “Get them. And fetch Ruby and Jess. It’s time.” Sam nodded and left the hut, calling for his wives. Meg turned down to look at Castiel and bared her teeth, and he knew his punishment was coming.

.

If he was being honest, his punishment confused him.

“There,” Jess said, patting his healing chest. “Perfect.”

He thanked her. Politeness to women was ingrained in him, and if he was being honest, dying in the clothes Jess had made for him was better than dying naked. He looked down at himself and wiped his sweaty palms on his new pants, trembling slightly. Jess had taken the best clothes she could find and had made them even finer. The pants were new and soft, but most importantly clean, and the fine black shirt hugged his body, but was soft enough not to irritate his wounds. Best of all, it had a high neckline that obscured his collar. She had even brushed his hair and shaved him, smiling as she did so.

“You’re so lucky,” she sighed. Castiel swallowed. He didn’t feel it.

Somewhere in the main clearing, drums began to sound.

Taking his hand, Jess tugged him out of the house and down the path. Her yellow hair had been braided around the crown of her head, and someone had woven flowers into it. The petals bounced cheerily with her steps, and every now and then one floated to the ground, the red flowers blending in with the skirt of her best dress before being trampled in the dirt under them.

The smell of roasting human flesh floated down the path toward them. Castiel felt his mouth water involuntarily at the smell of food. It was nearly sunset, and he had not been allowed to eat all day, instead confined to Meg’s hut until Jess came to dress him.

He wondered if Meg would force him to eat human flesh before she began whatever punishment she had in store for him.

Then he stumbled into the clearing and felt his knees go weak.

There were no bodies, the men having been killed, skinned, and cleaned earlier in the day. But there were piles of meat all around the clearing, and a large bonfire raged in the middle of it. Nearly every person on the island was there, all dressed in their best clothing. The women all wore flowers woven into their hair, and all of them were smiling.

In the middle of it all was Meg, dressed in a short white gown that made her look even younger and paler than she was. Someone had woven her a crown of large, white flowers, and woven smaller ones into the dark hair that flowed over her shoulders.

Next to her on a tall stool was a small bowl and a very large knife.

“Go,” Jess said, giving him a short, sharp shove. Shaking, Castiel walked to Meg and took the hand she offered. The drums stopped.

Meg smiled at him. The heat from the fire was nearly unbearable, and for a moment he wondered if Meg meant to throw him in it, or have him eaten alive, chunks of him carved away and cooked next to her.

She did something much worse.

“Hold him,” she ordered. Castiel felt two strong hands wrap around his shoulders, keeping him from escaping, and knew that Sam was behind him. Meg nodded and then, without hesitation, yanked the sleeves of her gown down and pulled her arms free, leaving her bare from the waist up. The light of the fire glinted off her new, metal nipple rings.

Castiel watched in horror as she grabbed the knife and, without looking, plunged it into her own chest.

He let out a choked gasp, but the others around him were silent, watching Meg with rapt, awed faces. Unable to tear his eyes away, Castiel watched Meg move the knife around, sawing through her own skin and fat and bones. Her face betrayed no pain, and she did it without looking, keeping her eyes trained on his face.

No blood flowed from the wound to mar her skin or make her fingers slippery, and Castiel noticed that her insides looked black, like they were rotting. She rotated the knife, sawing herself open more and more, until he could see her heart, black and still under the safety of her ribs.

Without hesitation Meg put the knife down and plunged her own fingers into the wound, keeping a tight grip on one of Castiel’s hands with her free one. When she withdrew her fingers, he saw a small piece of her heart pinched between her thumb and forefinger, black and shriveled.

Stepping closer to him, Meg held it to his lips. Castiel twisted in Sam’s grasp, trying to avoid it, but the larger man simply grabbed Castiel’s mouth and forced it open. Meg slipped her fingers into his mouth, deposited the piece of her heart on his tongue before slamming her palm down over his lips and pinching his noise shut with her fingers.

Castiel twisted, trying to move his face so he could spit it out. It tasted like rotten meat, and he felt vomit rising in the back of his throat as he fought the urge to breathe. Meg finally let go of his hand and softly stroked his throat, urging him to swallow.

He did, his body swallowing the offering automatically, and Meg stepped away from him, smiling. Sam tightened his grip on Castiel as his knees folded, keeping him from falling. The crowd hushed, no sounds except for the crackling of the fire and his own heavy breathing audible in the clearing.

Meg picked up the small bowl and held it toward him. The sharp, metallic smell of blood reached his nostrils, but instead of recoiling Castiel found himself leaning toward it, suddenly hungry. He didn’t hesitate to drink when Meg raised the bowl to his lips, gulping down the blood so fast that it ran down the corners of his mouth.

The islander’s let out a collective breath as Meg took the bowl away and Sam let him go, letting Castiel fall onto his knees. Gulping air, Castiel looked up at Meg and saw that the wound in her chest had healed and she was yanking up her dress. She crouched in front of him, smiling.

“What did you do to me?” he wheezed. Meg touched his cheek gently, the firelight playing off her face and tinting the blossoms in her hair. She leaned forward and kissed him, and the crowd cheered. She smiled again when she pulled away, and Castiel felt his own heart drop into his stomach. “What did you do?”

“Oh, Clarence,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I made you like me.”

“No,” he whispered in horror. “No. Please, no.”

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “Now you’re trapped here, just like me. You’re my pet _forever.”_ She kissed him again, her tongue slipping into his mouth, and laughed when he bit down, severing the organ. It slipped down his throat easily, and he found himself surging forward to bite her again without thinking.

She pulled away and smiled, her tongue growing back as if he had never touched it. “I’ll bleed again soon, I promise. You can drink as much of my blood as you want, then. The magic should wear off by the time the moon wanes.”

She stood, forcing him to stand with her. Already his limbs felt cold, as if he had died. He hungered to sink his teeth into her flesh again and tear at her, and knew that she spoke true.

“I wish you’d killed me.”

Meg laughed, and her people laughed with her. “Ah, Castiel. You have an eternity to hate me for it. For now, you should enjoy your wedding.”

She turned and walked away from him, heading toward a giggling group of women in the corner. The piece of her heart seemed to beat and flutter in his belly, compelling him to follow.

His collar felt tight around his neck, and he felt the weight of it like he never had before, heavy and constricting against his flesh, and knew that Meg was right. He would never be able to escape her now.

She turned and crooked her finger, ordering him forward.

He saw his long, long life stretching in front of him, full of pain and praise and loneliness, and obeyed her silent command.

 


End file.
